


In Sickness and in Health

by MissDevon



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDevon/pseuds/MissDevon
Summary: after an illness causes Claire to reveal secrets to Frank he realizes he has to reveal one of his own--- Jamie Fraser is alive. Claire returns to the life she left behind (Bre in tow) to be faced with questions she can't answer. After she and Jamie reunite she becomes ill again. Just how far will Jamie go to save her.
Relationships: Brianna Randall Fraser Mackenzie/Frank Randall, Claire Beauchamp/Brianna Randall Fraser MacKenzie, Claire Beauchamp/Frank Randall, Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 63
Kudos: 143





	1. chapter 1

In Sickness and In Health

She sat with her head on the steering wheel as she turned off the car, the weight of the last few days settling into her bones. On some level, she knew this was the life she had asked for, and yet it was one she didn't want.  
It was one she was thrown back into almost ten years ago thanks to a promise, and if it wasn't for her daughter, she would say that it hadn't been one worth keeping or a life worth living. Tiredly, she sat up and opened the door, slowly she alighted from the car and walked into the darkened house. No one understood her here. Oh, her husband pretended to try, but really, what alternative did he have? She didn't fit in as a faculty wife, and once Bre had entered school she had been at loose ends. The only thing other than her daughter that had made any sense to her had been medicine, and after having had the freedom of being a healer in the 18th century being a nurse in the 20th wouldn't do. Not that Frank seemed to believe the story she had told him of the time from when she disappeared from Craigh Nu Dunn till her reappearance in Inverness… Shaking her head, at thoughts better not thought, Claire Randall flipped on a hall light and walked towards her daughter's room.

"You're home," Frank said as he slipped out of his home office.

"So it would seem," she replied as she shed her coat and looked at him; trying to feel something for him.

Shaking his head slightly, he exhaled: "there's a plate with dinner on it in the refrigerator."

"I grabbed something in the cafeteria while I did paperwork," Claire admitted tiredly as she folded her coat over her arm.

"With Joe?"

"Not this again, Frank," she sighed in exasperation.

Inhaling he put his hands up in surrender: "you've been there for four days; maybe I just hoped you stopped to talk to someone."

Rubbing the bridge of her nose she sighed: "we're in the middle of an outbreak, Frank. I've barely had time to sleep, never mind to stop to talk to someone. The time I spent talking to someone other than in the course of work was to call home and talk to Bre," she admitted coming close to the edge of her patience.

"Well, I'll let you check on her and get some rest then," he said a bit curtly. "I have a paper I want to get finished tonight so I won't be a bother and say goodnight now."

Nodding, she turned away from him as she bid him goodnight and headed down the hall. Frank watched her in silence till she slipped into Bre's room before slipping into his office dejectedly himself, wondering what had happened to the woman he had married nearly twenty years before…

Claire crept over to Bre's bed led by the dual light of the moon from the open window and the nightlight near the floorboard. Placing her coat on the edge of the bed, she crossed the room to close the room against the damp night's chill. "Momma?" Bre asked sleepily as she turned slightly in the bed.

"You should be sleeping Miss," Claire chided with a smile in her voice as she went back to the bed and sat on its edge and looked at her daughter with a laugh: "what ever happened to your hair?"

Bre rolled her eyes: "daddy tried to braid it, but he can't do it like you can Momma!"

Claire bit back a laugh: "so I see. Grab your brush," she sighed as Bre's smile lit her face and she jumped up and reached over to her nightstand to get it and a ribbon. "Oh a foregone conclusion that I'd fix this, huh?"

"A what?" Bre asked as she bounced on the bed.

Claire laughed: "it means you figured I'd come in here and fix your hair. Did you stay up just for this? You do know I might not have made it home," she explained as she started to brush the hair that was so much like Bre's father's, thick and copper in color with just a touch of a curl that always seemed to be flying out of its restraint.

"No," Bre answered. "The strange man woke me."

"What strange man?" Claire asked pausing mid-stroke. "Did you see him in the widow?"

"No Momma. He used to come sometimes to get Faye, but he never talks. He just stands and watched."  
Claire let go of the breathe she had been holding as he daughter mentioned the imaginary friend she used to have: "did you see Faye too?" she asked, wondering if her four day absence had caused a regression in some of her daughter's behaviors.

"No, but Ougal was here too."

"Who?"

Bre huffed as she turned her head slightly towards her mother. "Her Unkie mother. The storyteller. I told you about him," she informed her before turning back around. "He talks funny. But he told funny stories about fairies and Dunns and Leoch and different places. He's who she left with. Had to go home with him. But he said he'd watch out for me. And you too."

Claire felt a shudder run up her back as if someone had walked over her grave as she finished the braid and swallowed hard. I'm just tired she thought. "Oh, that's nice," she said, not wanting to do anything to smother her daughter's adventurous and creative spirit. "How about a cuddle and a story?"

Bre smiled as she put her brush on the table and picked up her book of fairy tales. "Tell me the one about the true bride," she said as she handed Claire the book and pushed herself back on the pillows and leaned against her mother.

"Always 'The True Bride' or 'The Goose Girl,'" Claire teased as she tweaked her nose and Bre put her head into the crook of Claire's shoulder.

"They're my favorites," Bre said as she yawned. "Momma you're hot."

"Only because you're cold as ice from having that window open. Now, it's getting late. 'The True Bride' then sleep…"

Claire tossed and turned into the night. She just could not get comfortable in the bed. One minute she was cold and the next hot. For the life of her she couldn't imagine where her husband was and what he could possibly be up to. Sighing, she flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong….  
At the sound of the door opening, she propped herself up on her elbows and glared at the man she caught entering. "What the bloody HELL do you think YOU'RE doing?" she asked as she jumped to her feet.

Frank rolled his eyes at her as he loosened his tie, not taking in her glassy eyes or the slight accent she had reverted to. "Claire, can we not do this right now. I'm tired and I would like to go to bed."

"Not with me you aren't," she said as she backed against the wall and her hands started to fiddle within the folds of the skirt of her nightgown as she muttered repeatedly: "where is it? Where is it?"

"Where's what?" he asked growing annoyed. "What is wrong with you?"

"They'll find me you know. You can't keep me here. You may have taken my dirk but there are other ways…. You saw that at Wentworth."

"Wentworth?! Claire you're having a nightmare," Frank deduced as he stepped towards her and she grabbed the book off the table and threw it at his head, barely missing him, but making a loud BANG as it made a hole in the wall.  
"Too bad those cows and the door didn't kill you! You should've died there… Or the duel… You took Faith from us, and somehow you lived," she continued to go on in derision. "You don't care who you hurt. Torture- Rape- Woman- Child- Man- it doesn't matter, does it Jack? Just as long as you get off. Get what you want…" she continued to rage to his surprise.

Frank stumbled back: "you said you weren't…"

"Weren't what?" she asked as she stared blankly at him, and then started to move as if she was pulling away from someone's hold, her energy now as frantic as her words. "Murtaugh let me go!" she said to the air. "He deserves to pay for what he did to Jamie… that so called choice. Me or him… Of course he choose to give himself to Jack…. He promised me the protection of his body and this bastard made sure he had to keep it!" she argued as she started to deflate and curl into- something, as Frank, horrified, backed out of the room.

"Daddy?" Bre called from down the hall. "What's wrong with Momma?"

"Just a nightmare, Baby. Go back to sleep. We didn't mean to wake you. I'm going to give her sometime and see if I can get her back into bed later," he said as he walked to her. "Come on, I'll tuck you back into bed. And we won't mention this to her in the morning. She'd be pretty embarrassed."

"Is the nightmare because she was so hot when she got home?" she asked looking up at him innocently.

"She was hot?"

"Uh huh. When I cuddled with her when she told me a story. She said it was because I was cold from the window being open, but I was nice and toasty under the covers," Bre told him as they entered her bedroom.

Frank cursed under his breathe: "Bre honey I need you to get dressed and put your school uniform in a bag. I'm going to call Ms. Flannery and see if she can watch you and take you to school in the morning."

"Why daddy?"

"Because sometimes when people get sick they get hot and they have nightmares. I'm going to take Momma to the hospital and have the doctors check her over."

"Is she gonna die?"

"Not if I can help it," he said as he kissed her head. "Now do what I said. I don't want to leave your Mom alone too long." or wait much longer to get her help, he thought.

Murtaugh lowered to the ground with Claire in his arms. As she felt them tighten around her she muttered: "He has to pay."

"Aye and he will," the older man said as he tried to calm her.

"But…"

"Ye think the Mackenzies will let his trespasses go by with a by your leave, Lass?" Dougal asked as he squatted down in front of her. "Colum and I have something planned the mhic an diabhoil! Don't ye worry ye heid about it. For now you need ye rest. To bed with you. Murtaugh and I will keep watch over you. As will the others."

"Others?" Claire asked as she let Dougal help her to her feet and Murtaugh to steady her.

"We aren't the only ones who care," Murtaugh reminded her. "We'll get you through this."

"What about Jamie? Where is Jamie?" she wondered as they led her to the bed and Dougal pulled back the covers.

"Working on getting back to you," Murtaugh told her simply as she sat confused on the edge of the bed.

"But shouldn't I…"

"When you're fairing a bit better," Dougal insisted as they got her feet on the bed and torso down. "Sleep now. He's waiting for you- you and the bairn. Get yeself better so ye can go to him…"

"Je suis prest," she whispered as she sank into the blankets and started to fade into sleep.

"Not yet, but you will be…"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The sun shone into the room, glaring off the white walls as he sat with his head in his hands. It had been two days since Claire had been admitted and there seemed to be no change. Although they were managing her fever, it wasn't breaking. For Frank, that was bad enough, but some of the things she was saying were heart breaking.

She was talking to them.  
The people who had made up four years of a life he had not been privy to.  
A life he had denied existed.  
But here, in this hospital room, he was forced to face it as he prayed for his wife's life.

"It's not that bad," she said simply.

"Isn't it?" he asked her as her face turned to him but she looked passed him to God only knew what as he took part in yet another conversation that he had no idea what the outcome would be; only knowing that engaging her in this matter seemed to help keep her calm.

"You worry too much."

"Perhaps you don't worry enough."

"Ned, you've proven me innocent of witch craft. There must be a way to get Geillis out of this as well."  
Witchcraft, he blanched. If this was true she could have been put to the death. Shaking slightly he answered: "she's done other things."

"Murder. Adultery. I know. But she should be put to death for those things then, not this. Do you really think she deserves to be burned at the stake for poisoning her husband and bedding Dougal? She's pregnant with Dougal's child, for Christ sake! Shouldn't that child have a chance?"

"It isn't that easy."

Claire exhaled: "I know…. Just like I know you aren't here on Colum's account. Getting me out of the way would free the way for Jamie to become Chieftain. But that's not how I got here."

"Isn't it?" Frank asked, wondering when he had started to believe that these things really had happened to her.

Claire shook her head as she turned over onto her back and stared at the ceiling: "It was that damn Laoghaire. She's the one that gave me the note telling me that Geillis needed me. I suppose it was an expedient way to get rid of me, but how she thinks Jamie will have anything to do with her is beyond me. He explained that even were he interested her father wouldn't accept him with no real home and a price on his head."

"And you don't care about that, now do you Claire?"

"Jamie is Jamie to me, whether as Jamie McTavish or Jamie Fraser. It never mattered to me if he was a horse trainer or Laird. It's the man he is at heart that I… well that I've fallen in love with. He's a man of honor. One who pledges himself only to the truths that he holds dear and he will fight to the death for what he believes in."

"And would he fight to the death for you?"

Claire turned her head towards Frank: "'You have my name, my clan, my family, and if need be the protection of my body,' he made that vow to me on our wedding night. I might only be able to give him the protection of my own body in return, should he ever need it, but I know this: we would die for the other. I have no doubt of that."  
"Then I hope that that necessity doesn't arrive," he muttered as she fell asleep, leaving him to his own thoghts.

"Any change?" Joe Abernathy asked as he entered the room.

Looking up, Frank frowned at him: "You tell me, you're the doctor."

"You know I'm not allowed to work on her case," Joe replied as he took in the older man. "When's the last time you went home?"

"I don't want to leave her alone," Frank admitted.

Joe nodded: "what about Bre? How's she taking this?"

"Not well," Frank admitted. "She heard part of Claire's… nightmare, for lack of a better word. She doesn't quite understand what is going on and is afraid her mother is going to die. Frankly, I don't have the words to tell her otherwise. I can’t tell her that Claire is half out of her mind…"

"She's delirious, not crazy," Joe corrected.

Frank huffed: "with the thinks she's saying…" he shook his head as he let his voice trail off. "I talk to her, you know? I reply as vaguely as possible and she answers in a way that I know makes sense to her somehow. But my wife is laying there talking to people who aren't here and of a world that doesn't exist and I can't help her. The doctors don't even seem to be sure if they can."

"Her fever is stable at least. They're working on getting it down. She's strong and stubborn. It's why she's hung on this long."

"Maybe…"

"Look, let me sit with her. I'm used to staying up all night or just catching a few zzzs in a chair. You go home and check in with Bre. Have dinner. Help her with her homework. Put her to bed and then get some sleep yourself," he offered.

"Why are you offering to do this?"

"Because Claire would do the same if I was the one in that bed."

Frank nodded, as he rose tiredly: "you'll call."

"Immediately," Joe said as Frank pulled his coat up from the back of the chair and moved to the bed, pausing to kiss Claire on the forehead and whispering that he would be back.

Once the door was closed, Joe moved to the chair that Frank had vacated. "OK, Lady Jane, how about we read the one about the Highlander and the time traveler, you always seem to go back to that one."

Shifting in the bed, Claire pushed to sit and stare at him: "are you talking to me?"

"Who else, LJ?"

"I'm afraid you have me mistaken with someone else. Perhaps Mistress Mary Hawkins or Princess Louise de la Tour de Rohan would be able to help you find your Lady Jane. I'm afraid it is only my first time in Court. Louise hasn't introduced me to many people as of yet."

Joe frowned but replied simply: "then who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Claire Fraser. Lady Broch Tuarach."

“And you’re here on your own?”

“No, my husband is with me.”

"You and your husband are not from here, are you?"

Claire laughed: "my accented French is that bad?" she asked, although she was speaking to him in English.  
"Just the accent in general, mi lady."

Claire smiled: "I'm originally from England. My husband is the tall, red headed Scott talking to Comte St Germain. I am fairly certain that that will not go well," she replied then laughed slightly. "Well, perhaps not as badly as I thought."  
"Oh? You'll have to excuse me. I'm new at court as well," Joe replied trying to figure out what she was talking about.  
"The man who just joined them is the secretary of finance. The Comte isn't bold enough to try anything in front of him."

"Just the Comte?" Joe wondered.

Claire laughed: "Haven't spent much time in the Highlands of Scotland, have you?"

"No, can't say I have."

"Some of the boldest men I have ever met have come from there."

"And the rest?"

Claire got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment then dropped her voice: "I'm sure you've heard talk- if not you will. I'm a healer. I volunteer at the L'Hopital des Anges. Some call me La Dame Blanc…"

"The White Woman…" Joe muttered as he felt a chill run up his spine.

"I have been called worse of course," she shrugged. "Anyway, I have seen other bold men as they held onto life after they fell in battle. I can only hope I never have to see it again."

"Do you think you will?"

Claire sighed: "I suppose it depends on whether or not Prince Charles gets the support he wants or not," she said as she shifted her gaze, her eyes moving up and a smile gracing her lips as if she had just caught someone's eyes. "After all, Lord Broch Tuarach will be expected to take a side. Please excuse me. I need to join my husband."

"Of course. Perhaps we can talk again later."

"Perhaps," Claire said as she slid down in the bed. "Murtaugh is it smart to allow Jamie and the Comte to be alone?" she wondered as Murtaugh approached the bed.

"They're not here lass."

"But…" she started to protest and looked around the room, starting to realize that she wasn't at a party in the royal court.

"You've been ill, Claire," Ian said as he approached as well. "We're here to help you get better."  
Claire frowned slightly at that: "you had better keep Jenny and the children away then, Ian. I worked myself into exhaustion to become this ill, she and the weans don't need to become ill."

"Do ye think me telling Jenny to stay away will do anything to keep her so?" Ian asked.

"I swear Ian, if she comes near me and becomes ill I'll put termites in your leg! You can tell her as much."

"Aye you two are quite the match," he muttered. "I do believe you'd do it too, but I doubt that she would care if she was dead set on helping you."

"Then have her stay with Jamie. I'm sure he's driving all of you crazy."

"He has his moments," Murtaugh agreed. "But he'd be much better if you would rest and get better."

"What are they giving me?" she asked.

"Antibiotics," Joe told her as if the question had been directed to him. "Intravenous. And fluids. We're trying to break the fever."

Claire's brow furrowed: "how do you know about antibiotics and IVs? Something is wrong. Very, very, wrong."

"You're sick, Claire," Joe told her. "We're just trying to get you better."

"We are you going?" Claire asked as she watched Ian fade slightly, panic entering her voice as she turned her head and saw that Murtaugh was also gone. "NO! Don't leave me here alone!"

"I'm here, Claire. It's Joe. I'm here and I'm not going to leave," Joe promised as he leaned over and grabbed her hand in his.

Claire pulled her hand away in full panic as she shot up in the bed: her eyes wide as she tried to figure out where and when she was. The when she figured was the problem. "Calm down lass, panicking will not help ye," Dougal said as he wrapped his arms around her and held her in place.

"Dougal. Let. Me. Go." she spit out as she looked over her shoulder and glared at him.

"You know I like ye feisty, Lass, but save ye fight for getting better, aye?" he said as he let his grip on her slacken slightly. "You need to get better for Jamie and the wean. They need you."

"No one needs me Dougal. No one has needed me in a long time."

"The lad has needed you since the moment he met ye and he will need ye to the moment he dies. Even then I doubt if he will stop needing ye."

"I miss him. He was my heart and my soul. The only reason I'm here is for Bre."

"And she needs her Mam. She needs you to get well and to take her to her Da."

"But Jamie's gone…" Claire sobbed, into her shoulder.

"Ahh, Lass, you should know better than to trust a Randall, even your Randall."

"I don't know what that means."

"Get well and find out. He'll tell you. We'll make sure of it."

"I'm tired. So tired of being without him," she admitted. "I dream of him. Of what we should've had. Maybe I should just sleep now. Sleep so I can be with him."

"You sleep to get better. We'll talk more when you wake."

"When I wake…." she said as she sank back into the bed and let Dougal rearrange her blankets. "Dougal, are you watching over him too?"

"Brian and Ellen are," he replied. "William too."

"And Faith? What about her?"

"She's near. She always has been."

"I've wondered sometimes," she admitted tiredly. "Why you?"

Dougal laughed: "Consider it my penance and my duty. I did love me family ye ken."

"I do. I'll sleep now. I want to be better for them. You promise I'll see him when I'm better."

"Aye Lass, I give ye my vow and…."

"A vow is worth more than a promise," she finished for him as she faded into dreams of Lallybroch and the life she wished she led, leaving Joe to try to come to terms with what she had said and what he knew about La Dame Blanche from family stories…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She stoked the fire and pulled her shawl tighter over her shoulders before moving back to her chair in the sitting room. She was restless tonight.   
Too restless.   
She refused to go to bed and toss and turn and keep Ian up, especially when she knew that this type of restlessness would not lead to sleep until whatever message the touch of sight that she was gifted or cursed with came through. 

So pragmatic by nature, Jenny Murray sat and knitted, the clacking of the needles lulling her senses into a sort of trance until a movement at the heart caught her eye. Slowly she lowered her task and shifted. She cocked her head in surprise at the sight of her sister-in-law standing there, fiddling with a figurine while dressed in an odd shift that barely covered her. “Haunting me now, are you?” Jenny decided to address the fetch straight on.

Claire turned at that, a peculiar sort of confusion on her face as her hand fell to her side. “No. I don’t think so. At least I don’t believe I’m dead. They keep telling me I’m not at any rate.”

“And just who is they?” Jenny asked.

“Dougal?”

“My uncle?” Jenny asked, slightly aghast having figured the man would have gone straight to hell upon his death from all she heard of him. “Ahh, I do na believe you can believe a word the man saids from hear tell of him.”

“Murtaugh tells me the same thing. Even Ian said I was just ill,” Claire admitted to her.

“Me husband? And just when would you have been talking to him?” she wondered, knowing he had not a bit of the sight himself, and if he had he certainly would have told her so.

“Well, that… that time I think it was all a dream,” Claire sighed as she ran a hand uncomfortably through her mussed hair and down the back of her head, around her neck to her chest. “I had told him I’d put termites in his leg if he let you all the kids catch what I have…” she started to explain, causing Jenny to laugh despite herself. “I knew that I had worked myself into exhaustion to get as sick as I have to be for all that seems to be happening to be happening. And then he and Murtaugh were gone and it was just Joe there…”

“And just who would this Joe be?”

“Just a friend I work with at the hospital.”

“So another healer than,” Jenny filled in, her tone softening from defensive to curious.

Claire let out a sigh: “yes. A healer like me.”

“And he’s working to make ye better?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, I know he was there. Sitting with me and talking to me. Telling me what they were doing… what medicines they were giving me to try to make me better but I don’t know for certain why he was there. I don’t really know for certain why any of them where or are there. I think… I think I saw Ian to make me realize I was sick… the others… they just tell me I have to get better for Jamie and… and…” Claire shook her head, her voice choked with unshed tears.

“Well, I’m certain me brother would be more than happy to welcome his wife back home where she belongs,” Jenny told her in her no nonsense way.

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise at the words: “But he’s… he meant to… he sent me away because…” she babbled.

“Claire, what is it, Mo caraidh?” 

“He…. I thought…” Claire exhaled and tried again. “He isn’t dead?” she said in a tone that was half wonder.

“I think I should know if me own brother was deid or not, especially as I am the one here and ye are the one who is gone and thought deid yeself,” Jenny shot back, then at the look on Claire’s face shook her head. “He near as well was when he was sent back to us. A life debt some English soldier owed him. I bullied, cajoled, fought the devil himself, but I made sure Jamie survived.”

“Never trust a Randall, even your one…” Claire muttered under her breathe.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just something Dougal said,” Claire mused as she turned back to the fire.

“And just what will you do now?”

Claire looked down: “I don’t know… I’m ever so sick, Jenny. I don’t know if I can get better,” she admitted tiredly.

“And just why do ye think ye are here now?”

“I…”

“Apparently someone needs to give you a kick in the arse, Claire Fraser. You WILL get better. Do what ye have to to get better and come back home. To Lallybroch,” Jenny laid out in her no nonsense fashion.

Claire nodded: “I will get better. I will come home. WE will come home to Lallybroch…” she listed to herself, as she crocked her head as if listening to something or someone. “Yes… yes… I understand… we’ll come back home and be a family… like we were supposed to be… all I have to do is get better. Get better and then go home. It’s that easy…” Claire said as she exhaled deeply and then slipped away.

Jenny sat there for a few moments mentally reviewing the strange conversation.   
So, her sister-in-law wasn’t dead. Her brother at some some explaining to do, although it wouldn’t be surprising at all if Claire arrived home before him; or before she got word to him of this--- happening.

Tiredly, she got to her feet and started to the stairs pondering over Claire’s word choice. Just why did she keep saying we, she wondered. Shaking her head, she figured she’d find out eventually. In the meantime, there were things that needed to be done. The Laird’s room would be needed to be aired out. Claire’s trunks would have to be brought down and the clothes sorted through and repaired… Yes, there was plenty to do before her return, first of all being sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to start to preparations for the return of her sister.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Frank sat at Claire’s bedside, feeling encouraged for the first time in days as she responded to him for the first time. Her repeating his words about going home and getting better made his heavy heart lighten; only for it to crash again at his feet as she talked about going home to Lallybroch. But if those, words made his heart crash land, the death blow was the words “we will come home.”

“Bloody hell Claire, even on your deathbed it’s about blasted Jamie Fraser!” he damned her under his breathe, before trying to recenter himself. “No, Claire,” he said at normal volume: “home is here in Boston. With me and Bre. Don’t you want to get better to come home to me and Bre?” he cajoled. 

“Home is Lallybroch,” Claire responded in a weak, almost distracted voice.

“Home was never blasted Lallybroch!”

“No. Lallybroch was the only home I ever had. Not Leoch. Not Jared’s in Paris. Not the sites with Uncle Lamb. Not the place in Boston. Lallybroch…” she argued as she shifted a nonfocused gaze towards him. “It was all I ever wanted in a home. Peace. Happiness. Love. A family.”

“We have that here in Boston.”

“It was different there. I could be myself.”

“And just how much more of yourself would you like me to allow you to be?” Frank wondered.

Claire shook her head at that: “I shouldn’t have to be allowed to be anything. I should just be. Be me. Accepted for who I am. Flaws and all.”

“And tried for witchcraft?” he scoffed.

“That wasn’t at Lallybroch.”

He shook his head and sighed: “Who are you Claire? You have never allowed me to know you.”

“You have never wanted to,” she said softly. 

“Then tell me. Help me understand.”

“I’m a woman. La Dame Blanche. A healer. A wife. Jamie’s wife. Yours. A witch. An auld one. A fae. Lady Broch Turach. A mother. A nurse. A doctor. An orphan. I’m everything and nothing.   
I was once happy and full of life. Only war happened and I lost my way.  
I found it again through the stones and lost it and me when I came back.  
I am nothing but numb now expect when it comes to Bre.  
You don’t like or understand that, and you want to come between us.   
To get something back, but I don’t know what.  
All I have to give I give to her till I’m empty.”

“And where does that leave me?”

“With your women,” she said, surprising him before she turned to her side and away from him.

Frank sat there in shock. Women? She thought that he had affairs?!?!?! The thought would be almost laughable to him if he didn’t realize it was the truth. That every word that she had just said was the truth.  
No. There were no women, just a bunch of secrets, full out lies, and half-truths that had built that gulf between them because he thought it was better that way. Because he had still wanted a life with her. The life they had had before the war.   
He had wanted Bre. Bre the little girl he had originally took on out of duty, then a touch of spite and then love. He didn’t want to lose his little girl.  
That he could freely admit was probably his biggest fear.  
He knew from their years apart he could live without Claire, but Bre? She had stolen a part of his heart that he hadn’t known he had to give away and he couldn’t imagine living without it.

But what of what he knew now?

The words he had heard Claire say?  
Cry out?  
He knew that there had in fact been a Lord Broch Turach. A highlands warrior and outlaw named James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser. Had found the Murrays and others she had talked about. He discovered what had happened to them--- with the exception of Jamie Fraser.

Did he give her the truth?

Could he?

But then again, could he ignore her fevered pleas?  
Her talk of “unusual?”

Rubbing a hand down his face, he reminded himself that he had time to decide.

He didn’t have to rush into this decision lightly.

Claire had to live first.  
Then get well.  
Then get her strength back.  
And then he had to hope she didn’t kill him if and when he told her the truth of things….


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they meet?

Chapter 5

It was one of the rare moments where the ward was quiet at night. Joe put aside the book he had been softly reading aloud to Claire as the specters of Dougal and Murtagh stood guard nearby. Rising to his feet, Joe uneasily moved to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. “I heard tales of the White Lady over the years, ya know Lady Jane?” he started. “My granny used to pass them down.   
I don’t know how it’s possible that you’re La Dame Blanc, but I learned a lot of things are unexplainable from her,” he admitted. “I don’t think that I ever told you why I became a doctor, but there are certain… gifts… I received from her. I try not to call on them because it can be dangerous; but for you? Even if you weren’t her…” he huffed out a laugh. “Call to him… fly to him and reach out… the one you love… go find his spirit…” Joe instructed as he got to his feet and placed his hands slightly above her body, white light flowing to blue.

* * *

“Do we trust him?” Dougal asked Murtagh.

The bearded man grumped out a sound as he rolled his shoulders: “she does.”

“Aye, but she trusts her Randall as well.”

“Not on the same level, you ken?”

Dougal grunted and nodded in assent: “you think she’ll find him in time?”

“Aye. I willna put anything pass those two. She’ll find him and her strength and will be put back on the right road.”

“And how much more of a push do ye think we’ll be needing to be giving the stubborn bitch?”

Murtagh gave him a dirty look at his choice of words: “Can ye not keep a civil tongue in yer heid even now?”

“Why should I act any different in death that I did in life? Won’t do me any good now, now will it?”

Murtagh shook his head: “she’s not who I’m worried about. Randall might need the ghostly persuading.”

Dougal grinned at that and rubbed his hands together in mischievous glee: “ahh and then there might be some real fun to be had. Me and the lads have been having some talks about it…”

“Jesus, Mary, and Bride!”

“What? Ye never said we couldn’t have some fun while we were at it. You watch the lasses. We’ll take care of the professor.”

“Just have Collum give him a good cuff for me, will ye not?”

Dougal only laughed at that, a twinkle in his eyes as he thought over the plans that he, his brother, and his men had been making…

* * *

Jamie sat on his haunches as he stoked the fire. He allowed his mind to drift even as he half listened to the noise floating to him from the camp a few yards away.  
He enjoyed this illusion of freedom that John allowed him when he forced him on the road on these misadventures. It was in these moments that he almost felt like a man again.  
When he could let down his guard for a few moments and breathe.  
Feel like the years hadn’t gone by and he was on the rent trip and he still had a future ahead of him--- even if it was a clouded one.

“Jamie…”

And then it undoubtedly happened. He’d hear her, and he’d give into the weakness of remembering what it was like to have her in his arms; it was why he needed the space between himself and the other men. 

He may no longer be a proud man, but he still was a smart one.

“Jamie,” Claire called again, causing him to slowly turn towards her, mentally noting that something was different this time. Her specter seemed more real to him somehow. “Come to bed.”

His mouth turned into a crocked smile as he fixed the blanket he had covering his shoulders as he would his plaid in years pass and he slowly rose to his feet and moved to the pallet he had put out as she pull up the side for him to slip in next to her. “Why are you looking at me like that?

“Can’t a man admire his wife?” he asked as he approached her slowly taking in the finer points of her face, noticing slight changes from his usual rememberings and wondering how that could be.

Claire blushed slightly at that, as he reached out with his right hand to brush away a stray curl. With slightly slower reflexes than normal, she captured his hand in one of her own. “What did you do to your hand?” she asked him, in a slight annoyance.

A mischievous smirk came to his lips: “I may have gotten into a wee skirmish.”

“And I suppose your opponent took the worse of it?” she asked him with a roll of her eyes as she automatically started to massage the hand. 

“Aye,” he stated as he watched her intently in confusion, noting how this vision seemed more concrete somehow. Christ! It’s as if I could actually feel her this time, he thought as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her hands kneading his before he slowly opened them again, not wanting to miss a minute of seeing her.

“I really wish you would stop looking at me that way,” Claire sighed as she looked him in the eyes.

“Isn’t it how I’ve always looked at you, Sassenach?” he wondered.

Shaking her head, Claire let her hands drop to the bedding. “Go get a couple of small twigs and something I can use to secure them so I can splint that finger,” she ordered him. Then at his cocked eyebrow, pushed at his arms: “Go.”

Put slightly off balance by her push, his eyes widened: “You’re…” he started as he reached out a hand to touch her face, taking in the soft texture of her skin as she turned her face into his hand: “here…”

“Hmmm…” she murmured as she kissed his palm before pulling back, “the twigs?”

“Aye,” he answered confused as he pushed back on his heels and rose to his feet to complete the task. Slowly he walked towards the fire to do her bidding, occasionally looking back to her over his shoulder. Watching as she sat up and rested her head on her knees and watched him.   
This wasn’t right.  
He knew enough about ‘the sight’ from Jenny to know that.   
He should be able to see her; not feel her. And truth was with his own ‘gifts,’ he had had glimpses of her and the child. Not enough to know anything about their lives with Randall, but enough to know that they were safe and healthy.   
So why was she here in some sort of physical sense?  
Was this a warning of some kind? A gift? 

Shaking his head, Jamie went about finding the twigs and returning to Claire. He took the ribbon holding back his hair out, and handed the items to her: “will these do?” he asked.

With a smile she took them and eyed the size of the sticks: “yes,” she answered softly as she put the items on the blanket and took Jamie’s hand in hers. Quietly, she turned it over in hers as she examined it. The look of sadness that crept into her eyes concerned Jamie: “what’s bothering you?”

Claire shrugged as she reached for the twigs: “I just wish I had done a better job with your hand.”

“Ye did the best ya could and ye saved it.”

“If I had done better… knew more… But even now that I’ve studied to be a doctor and learned more about orthopedic surgery, I don’t know if I could have done better,” she admitted as she set his finger in between the two sticks and reached for the ribbon.

“Studied to become a doctor? To be more verse as a healer ye mean?”

Claire nodded as she wrapped the hair ribbon in place over the sticks and finger: “I know that probably disappoints you…”

“And just why would you making yeself a better healer disappoint me?”

Claire knotted the ribbon and looked at him as he shifted to sit next to her. “I’m not exactly the best mother, Jamie. I’ve closed a part of myself off and when Bree went to school, well I didn’t know what to do with myself. So I went back to school to become a doctor.”

Jamie nodded at this as he took her hand in his: “she’s healthy and happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve done a braw job. That is all I can ask for our child and yeself.”

“But Jamie…”

He shook his head: “Sassenach, if things had been different. Worked out the way we once talked about, would ye not be going on ye way about Lallybroch with the child in your skirts as you cared for the tenants? Would you not still be a healer?”

Claire swallowed: “I suppose I would.”

“Then why would I be disappointed that you were making yourself able to do a better job of it in your own time?” he asked then, as her eyes dropped and she shook her head, he exhaled. “He doesn’t like it then?” 

“It’s just not done… not proper.”

“Was he so daft as to think he was marrying a proper lady to begin with?” Jamie asked her, causing her to look up and glare at him. “Now, don’t give me that look, Sassenach. You are a great many things. And though you can play the Lady of the House quite well, a proper one you have never been. What was it ye once told me? Ye weren’t the meek and obedient type?”

Claire exhaled on a laugh: “no, I suppose I’m not. I suppose I also grew tired of playing the part. God, Jamie it was worse than Paris! At least there I had Louise and Mary…”

“My poor Claire,” he muttered as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Pulling back in alarm, he stared at her: “Christ, Sassenach! You’re burning up with fever!”

She nodded sadly at his words: “I know, Jamie. I’m sick… very, very sick.”

Jamie closed his eyes at her words. God, please don’t let this be goodbye. Don’t give her back to me even for a night for me to just loose her again, he thought as he pulled her to his chest. “How bad?”

“I don’t even know anymore. I’m not sure what is real and what isn’t,” she admitted.

“For now, all you have to know is that this is real. Hold onto that.”

She nodded as she inhaled his scent: “they keep telling me I have to get better so I can come find you.”

“Who?”

“Murtagh. Dougal.”

“Dougal?”

“Hmmm…” she said as she pulled back slightly to look at him. “He saids it’s his penance to watch over me and that I shouldn’t trust a Randall, even my one.”

“Well, Dougal would have a lot to atone for,” Jamie concurred with a smirk. 

“I asked him and he said… he said your parents are watching over you and that… well, that Faith is near,” she admitted as she placed a hand over his heart.

Jamie took her hand in his and squeezed. “Well, that’s a comfort. What else do they say?”

“That you’re alive. Jenny said it too…” Claire replied in a bittersweet tone as she turned his hand over from one hand to the other. “Are you really?”

“Aye, I survived Culloden,” Jamie said as he reached out with his free hand and brushed the side of her face, allowing her to nuzzle into it. “I admit, after sending you away I didna want to, but Jenny would give me no other choice.”

“You were hurt then,” she asked, raising her whiskey colored eyes to his blue.

“Aye.”

“Badly?”

“Sassenach…”

“I should have been there Jamie! I should have…”

Shaking his head, he pulled her back into his chest as her tears started to fall: “ye did as I asked. You and the child are safe. That’s all I wanted. But I know how ye feel. I should be with ye now, should I not?” he asked as he kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t want to die, Jamie,” Claire admitted, a touch of fear entering her voice.

Jamie closed his eyes trying to gain the courage and strength he needed, as the purpose of the visit was slowly becoming clear to him. He was supposed to give her the strength and will to live. They might have this one night, but that would be all. He supposed he knew that from the start. He couldna fash about that now. His hurt when she left him again was not what was important. He would learn to live without her as he had before, as long as she was out there in some time living. “Then you have to fight, Claire.”

“But I want to be with you so much!”

He pulled back, causing her to look at him: “I’m not deid. I’m very much alive in my own time and place and I very much still love and want you. I would die in your place if I could, ye ken that well.”

“Jamie…”

“No. Listen to me. What have they said? What must ye do? Tell me the plan… Ye said you talked to Jenny. I know she has the sight and she would not have let ye leave without ye two making a plan,” he ordered.

Claire swallowed and looked around, before bringing her eyes to his after a slight shake. “They tell me to get better to bring Bre to you. Jenny ordered me to get better too,” she began, earning a sad smile from Jamie. “I don’t think she’ll take an alternative from me either. She wants me home at Lallybroch.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“That we would come home,” she admitted as tears were forming in her eyes.

“Then that’s what you do, Sassenach. You get well and you come home.”

“But what if Bre can’t travel? I can’t leave her. I won’t!”

“Do ye think I would ask that of you?” Jamie asked in a rough voice.

“No. I…”

“If the child canna travel, you wait till she’s of age and then you come home.”

Claire cocked her head to the side: “you would wait for me.”

“Ye are my wife, Claire Fraser. Is there really a question there?”

“But I’ve… I’ve been with…”

Jamie shook his head: “Ye’ve thought me deid.”

“But if Bre can’t…”

“You would still have to do your wifely duty by him. I ken that. I don’t like it but I ken it all too well. I will not hold it against you.”

Claire closed her eyes and leaned into him: “it’s not what I want. I don’t even think it’s what he wants. I know there are others…”

“Sassenach, you have to get well. Before anything else. You have to get well,” Jamie all but ordered as he held her to his chest.

“He told me to fly to you… to reach out to you. That was how I would get well.”

“Who?”

“Joe, I think.”

“Who is he?” Jamie asked as he leaned his forehead against hers. 

“A friend. A doctor I work with,” Claire explained, as she brought her hands up to his shoulders. “I think he might be like Master Raymond… that he can… heal…”

“You trust him?”

Claire leaned back slightly and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then let him help. Listen to him.”

“But he told me to come to you!” she protested.

“You know you can’t stay. Not like this…”

“But I want…” she tried to argue as she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

Jamie closed his eyes as he inhaled and took her hands off of his shoulders and clasped them in his own. “You have to go back. This isn’t real. You know that.”

“Jamie…”

“How would you come to me? How would you truly come home? You know there’s really only one true way.”

“The stones.”

He nodded as he rested his head back against hers. “Yes. You go back. You get better. You go to the stones. You come home to Lallybroch. There are steps you have to take… You can’t skip over one. It has to be done in the right order. The right way, otherwise it won’t be real and it won’t be for good.”

Claire inhaled and nodded slightly not wanting to lose any contact with him. “Can you at least hold me till I fall asleep? I think that is the way I go back.”

“I’d hold you to the end of time if I could, Sassenach,” he told her. “Lay down, I have you,” he promised waiting for her to lay down before sliding under the covers with her. Laying on her side, she snuggled into his side while he lay on his back. The position was comforting and familiar, as her head laid over his heartbeat, while his hand lightly threaded through her curls as they had done a hundred nights before. “Go to sleep. I’ll hold you for as long as you’re here.”

“I wish I could stay.”

Jamie exhaled: “the lass needs you. Ye need to go back for her. Right now she needs you more than I do. We just need to believe that you’ll be back once you’re well.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Jamie shifted and kissed her forehead as he threaded his fingers through hers. “Then take whatever strength you need   
from me.”

“Jamie…”

“Blood of my blood, remember?”

“How could you think I’d ever forget?”

“Then say it with me,” he said as he shifted so that he turned to his side and slightly over her: “blood of my blood,” he   
started as tears started to fall from her eyes as easily as the words left her lips to join his:   
“bone of my bone. I give ye my body that we may be one. I give ye my spirit till our life here be done.” As the last words crossed both their lips, Jamie leaned down and kissed her, giving her his strength by way of his breathe. Slowly he pulled back and looked down at her, seeing a small shift in her eyes that gave him a renewed sense of hope. 

“Neither of our lives are done, Sassenach. We’ll have our time. Now rest. Let me hold you for what little time we have this night, and know that I’ll be waiting till I don’t have to let you go from my arms.”

“And I’ll be waiting till I don’t have to leave them,” she said as she cupped his face with her hands. “I will come. And I won’t be alone. I don’t know how I know, but Jamie, I know that Bre will be with me.”

“Hush now.”

“No. I promise you. When I come back to you, I will have our daughter with me. We will be a family, Jamie Fraser. We will have what we dreamed of before Charles’s letter came.”

Jamie nodded as he turned his head into one of Claire’s hands and kissed her palm, his eyes tearing up slightly as he prayer for strength: “if you believe it I will too.”

“I mean it. I’ll get well. I’ll get well and we’ll come find you. We’ll come home….”

“Aye, then I’ll be waiting for you.”


	6. chapter 6

Chapter 6

“Daddy?” Bre asked from across the desk, causing Frank to look up from the paper trail he was following on the current owners of Lallybroch and at the young girl who was resting on her elbows on the crowded desktop while kneeling in a chair, her small bottom up in the air, as she put down her crayon. At the intent look on her face, Frank was cautious and put his research to the side: “what is it, baby?”

“I’m not a baby!” she pouted, as she plopped back on her haunches and folded her arms over her chest.

“No? Not even my baby girl?” he asked.

“Dad-dy!” she protested, causing him to smile: “Ok. What is my very big girl’s question?”

“Why can’t I see Mama?”

Frank sighed, knowing that this was a question that was only a matter of time in coming: “because even as big of a girl as you are you aren’t old enough to go into the part of the hospital that she is in. They don’t want you to get sick or for Mama to get sicker.”

“But I won’t!”

“Maybe not, but Mama wouldn’t want you taking a chance, now would she?” he asked logically. But logic was not going to work on a tired eight-year-old who wanted her mother.

Her eyes welled up and her bottom lipped started to tremble: “You’re lying about her getting better aren’t you? She’s going to die and you aren’t going to let me see her. Mary-Kate’s Grandmother went to the hospital and they told her she was going to get better and come home but they wouldn’t let her see her because they said the hospital said she was too young to see her and she didn’t get better and go home! She died and went to heaven to be with God and Mary-Kate and her brothers didn’t get to say goodbye till she was already dead and in a coffin and… and…” she babbled as she started to cry and hyperventilate. Halfway through her story, Frank was out of his chair and around the desk on his knees in front of her, taking her little body into his arms and holding her to his chest trying to calm her while allowing her to cry into his shoulder. Unfortunately, there was little he could do but let her cry it out.

Once she was done, he pulled back slightly and brushed her curls out of her eyes: “I’m not lying to you, Brianna. Yes, Mama is very sick. But as of right now she is not going to die. I go and sit with her every day and talk to her about you, reminding her why she has to get better. When I’m not there here friend, Dr. Joe, is there reading to her so she isn’t alone.”

Bre tiredly rubbed at her eyes as she leaned back in Frank’s hold: “Dr. Joe is nice.”

“Mama’s getting medicine and she knows where she is more and more.”

“You mean she doesn’t sometimes?” Bre asked confused.

Frank internally cursed his slip, but kept his calm as he explained: “remember how she had those really bad nightmares the night I took her to the hospital?”

“Ah huh.”

“Well, sometimes when people are really sick and have really high fevers like Mama they get confused and they don’t know what is real and what is the dream. That’s another reason you can’t see her right now. We don’t want you to get scared if she’s confused.”

“I don’t understand…”

“She… right now, she talks to people we can’t see.”

“Like when I talk to Faye and her family?”

“Well, Faye and her family are pretend.”

“Well, that’s what you say.”

Frank shook his head: “Mama is just talking about things that don’t make sense to us. I answer her as if I knew what she was talking about so she doesn’t get upset. Like I was playing with you and Faye.”

“You never played with us,” Bre countered.

Frank flicked her nose and shook his head: “besides the point. When Mama’s better you can see her. Now how about you show me the picture you’re drawing.”

“It’s for Mama. You can bring it to her, right?”

“Of course I can,” Frank said as he looked at it. “A tower? For Rapunzel?”

“No. It’s from one of the stories ‘Ougal told me. I forget its real name, but it’s the North Facing Tower,” she told him as she started gathering her crayons. 

“A tower can’t face North, Bre. It’s round.”

“I know. I asked him about that. He said Brian Duhb made it so the door faced the North,” she answered as she got to her feet and looked up at him. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed. Will you read me a story after I get ready?”

“Ummm…” Frank said as he shook away his perplexion. “Of course honey, and I bet your Mama’s going to love this.”

“I know. He said she liked it there,” she replied before rushing off towards her room.

“North facing tower…” Frank repeated to himself as he went back around his desk, his eyes drifting to one of the papers on Lallybroch. Uneasily he started to look through them until he came to the one he was looking for and gulped when he saw it: Broch Taruach. “Now how would she know that?” he muttered. Then he shook his head: “Claire must have made up some story or other about the place. Wouldn’t put it past her… although… no….” he muttered as he brushed the papers into a stack and placed them back into their folder. He quickly turned out the desk lamp as he turned on his heel and headed towards the door, almost falling face first as he did. Righting himself, he looked down at the floor that was illuminated by the hall light, but saw nothing, although he could swear he heard a childish laugh.

Covering her mouth to try to suppress her giggles, the dark, curly haired whiskey eyed ghost of Faith Fraser looked across the room to catch the stern eye of her grandfather. He merely crocked a finger and she shrugged and skipped over to him. With a gentle hand he cuffed her playfully behind the head. “You’ll be ruining your Uncle’s fun if you keep that up,” he told her.

“Why do the adults get all the fun?” she wondered. “Bre doesn’t play anymore.”

“We’re nay here for fun and games, Faith. We have jobs to do,” he reminded as the landscaped shifted and they stood before her sleeping parents.

“I know Grandda, but sometimes…”

“Aye. When we’re done you can help Mr. Murray and Caitlynn with wrangling ye younger cousins. Young Ian alone will need all three of ye.”

“And then some,” she muttered, causing him to laugh as he put an arm over her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

“We’ll always be needed love. And occasionally there will even be a little fun to be have,” he told her. “And just between ye and I, the next time ye try to trip the man aim a bit higher so he actually falls on his face.”

“Aye, Grandda. I’ll remember that…”


	7. chapter 7

Chapter 7

Frank finished reading the fairy tale, his voice growing softer as he let it drift off. “And they lived happily ever after,” he all but whispered into the head that leaned heavily against his side. He placed a soft kiss into his daughter’s hair before shifting as gently as he could so as not to wake her as he put the book on the table next to her bed. He then turned back and gently laid her down on the twin bed. As he pulled the cover over her, he placed Bunny into her arms before gently kissing her forehead and heading to the door. For some reason, he paused there, even as a chill ran down his spine. He felt like he was being watched, but they were alone, he was sure of that. Turning out the bedroom light, he left the room, leaving the door partially open should she need him during the night.

As he walked down the hall and back to his office, he mused that he wished it could be as easy as her fairy tales. The hero got the lady and they triumphed over adversary to get their happily ever after. He supposed, he had almost had a happily ever after once. He had fallen almost at first sight for an 18-year-old Claire Beauchamp when he had been introduced to her by Quentin. Their courtship had been a whirlwind and their marriage quick and happy. Then war came and they parted. Ten days in six years wasn’t good for the strongest of marriages, but one as new as theirs had been? Of course, he should have been more aware that there would be a… well, strain, he now supposed. But they could’ve gotten pass it, he was sure of that, if it hadn’t been for Jamie bloody Fraser….

He hadn’t needed to come across a colleague’s find of mid and late 1700 billets, including ones for Red Jamie and the Stewart Witch to know what the blasted man looked like. He was the man who had been waiting outside the bed and breakfast the night before Claire had disappeared. And even if he wasn’t, his face stared back at him daily from Bre’s.  
Frank wondered sometimes what would happen when she got older. Surely she would start to realize that with the exception of her fly away curls she shared very little in the looks department with her mother and none at all with him. What would happen when she was taught basic biology in school? Learned that there was very little chance that her two-brown eyed, dark haired parents could have made her. Would she question them? Hate him? For it was him who was demanding that she never know of bloody Fraser. That there was no reason to tell her.   
He was her father.  
But it was all an illusion.  
It could all fall apart so easily.  
Because if he was learning anything from the things Claire had been saying this past week, it was that a major part of her hadn’t returned to him. That while he was busy trying to rebuild a marriage and family, she was just going along the path of least resistance.   
In her mind they had ended a long time ago, and she only had a duty to him.  
That was all he was to her.  
A duty to be fulfilled.  
And not even because of anything she felt she owed to him.  
No, even the duty that kept her bound to him was owed to Jamie bloody Fraser.  
He couldn’t even count himself thankful to the vows she had made to him, for Claire being in his life, but to a promise she made that man that she’d return to him if she had no choice for her and their child.

Their other child.

On top of that, Bre was all she could love.  
Her job was all she could be.  
And he was just there…

* * *

Claire curled her body closer to Jamie’s as she felt a chill go through her. “Rest Sassenach,” Jamie said into her hair as he pulled her closer into his side.

“I don’t want to lose this,” she admitted tiredly.

“You will never lose this. I will always be with you,” he reminded her.

“If it weren’t for Bre, I wouldn’t even consider going back,” she admitted.

Jamie stiffened at that: “not even to be able to come back to me?”

“Jamie…” she huffed tiredly.

Roughly, he turned her to him, and made her look into his eyes: “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“The woman who took on the War Chieftain of the McKenzie’s? The one who wanted to change history? And when she couldn’t, was willing to die on a field that men ran from,” Jamie pushed. “Where is the woman that I remember being so fearless!”

“I haven’t been her for a long time, Jamie,” Claire admitted, defeat making her voice hollow.

“Find her.” 

Claire shook her head and looked down, as she fiddled with the tie on his shirt: “Does it make you want me less?” she wondered.

“I couldn’t want you more, Claire. Each day I prayer for you and the child to be healthy and safe. I have never had the courage before to prayer for you to come back to me, but from now on, I will. I will prayer for the two of you until you are back in my arms. For you are my home and I am yours.   
This home is no longer lost to us.   
You just have to find your way back to it, and for that, you have to push the fear aside.”

“I don’t remember what it’s like to not be afraid. I think the last time I was, was when I was with you,” she admitted. Shifting further into his side, she linked their fingers, watching their interplay: “I was so afraid I’d lose Bre like I did Faith. And then…” she closed her eyes, against an up swelling of pain. “I promised Frank I wouldn’t tell her about you. That I would raise her as his daughter and seeing you so much in her hurt. I’d bite back so often how much she was like you… How’d she’d have this look that… or say something and I swear it had to be Jenny… or…” she shook her head. “I’d curse him in my head and myself more… I was so weak for not standing up to him…”

Jamie kissed her head: “hush now. Tis not the time to fash. You’ll be stronger now, no? You’ll tell the lass about me. About the things we did. The squirmishes. The scraps. Her history as a Fraser. And when ye bring her home, and I join ye, I’ll tell her more. And I’m sure Jenny and Ian will enjoy telling a tale or three at me expense, no?”

Claire smiled: “yes, I can imagine Jenny having a bit of fun at that. You certainly didn’t mind telling a few to wee Jamie.”

“Got me ears boxed for it too,” he said causing Claire to laugh. “See, we’ll have that. We never had enough. But ye must get strong enough, and to do that you need to find that woman who was nah afraid of anything.”

“And you, Jamie. What are you afraid of?” she wondered.

“Och, Sassenach, there’s many a thing I’m scared of now,” he admitted. “But the most daughting would be that after this night I would not get to hold you again. To not have you and the bairn with me again now that I ken it’s a possibility, you ken?”

“Jamie…”

“I’m no the man I once was, mo neighean duinne. Do ye think you’ll be able to take me for the man I am now at the sake of the man I was? The man ye knew? For I have done things I’m no proud of and that are in conflict with the vows I made ye.”

“I haven’t been able to be true to the vows I made to you as well, Jamie.”

“Och, but that is different.”

“Not really Jamie,” she sighed. Then shook her head as she looked at him: “we can fight more about this when we are together. For now, know that I will have you anyway I can. In you I find my home, and you are right. Our home is no longer lost. We just have to be strong enough to fight for it. And when we are together, when we pool our strength, we are invincible. We may not have changed history, but we made a difference. We saved Lallybroch and its men. We saved each other, and most of all, we made and saved our daughter.”

Jamie smiled sadly as he kissed her forehead: “Aye. Now rest and save yourself so ye can come home to the one to be found.”


	8. chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> transition

Ian stared at Jenny as she finished giving orders to Fergus, Wee Jamie, and Rabbie McNabb. “What in the world has gotten into you, Janet? Sending the boys to get Claire’s trunks, you know how Jamie feels about it.”

“Och, I know. But that is not all I know,” she said as she started to wipe down the table as the older girls removed the plates. 

Ian stared at her: “you had one of your visions last night, didn’t you?”

“Aye,” Jenny replied as she stood and looked at him. “Claire’s not deid. At least not as of last night.”

“Jenny…”

“Don’t Jenny me, Ian Murray. She’s sick but once she’s well enough she’ll be coming back.”

Ian went to open his mouth to say something as Mary McNaab ran in warning of the incoming Dragoons, which since they had only come a few weeks ago, wasn’t a good thing…

* * *

Jamie glared at Tom Christie as the other men stared on: “I don’t owe you any explanations,” he told him heatedly.

“You were talking to someone in the night. The fact that you have that… that thing on your finger proves someone else was with you. You talked about bloodshed.”

“James, it would be wise to explain. Mr. Christie doesn’t deserve an explanation, but I believe I do,” John said from where he stood a few feet away.

“I splinted my own finger,” Jamie said as he held up his hand. “I’ve broken it enough over the years that I’ve learned to manage on my own.   
As for bloodshed, I dreamt of my wife last night. In the dream we renewed our vows--- Blood of my blood…”

“See a perfectly reasonable explanation,” John said as he slapped his whip against his legs.

“You don’t actually believe…” Chrisite tried to protest.

“We’ve wasted enough time on this,” Harold interrupted. “Mount up.”

* * *

Joe took in the nurse’s glare from the door as he let his hands fall to his sides. He knew he wasn’t on her good list, not that many were. He retook his seat as she crossed to Claire to take her vitals. “Don’t tell me you believe in that laying of hands…”

Joe shook his head: “No, but I know those who do. Figured it couldn’t hurt,” he replied as he watched her. “Any change?”

“Hmm… her fever is lower. Hopefully it will break soon…”


	9. Chapter 9

Claire looked at Frank as he came into the room. As he took off his coat and moved to the chair next to her bed, she seemed to shrink into herself. Truth of the matter was she was a mixture of things. Hurt, angry, and embarrassed seemed to top the list. She knew he had to be mad at her for the things she had said while she was in her state of delirium. 

“I’m glad you’re awake and feeling better today,” Frank said as she leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hmmm,” she sighed as he straightened up, her fingers playing with the edge of her blanket. “You are feeling better, aren’t you Claire? The doctor said you should be on your way to recovery now that your fever broke.”

“I suppose I am,” she answered, her head turned down and eyes on her rings. “I honestly don’t remember much of the last few days.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Frank wondered as he sat and laid his coat over his lap.

Claire sighed as she straightened and sat back on the bed: “I suppose getting home the other night. We talked and I checked in on Bre. I think I even read her a story… after that it’s… I’m afraid I’m not sure what was real and what was the fever.”

Frank fought back a sigh. He knew he’d have to address a lot of what had been said in the last few days. Although he was pretty sure of the path he would be taking, he needed answers to his questions, if for no other reason then to prove him right. “Do you remember throwing a book at my head?”

Claire’s eyes widen a bit at that: “I did?”

“You were apparently hallucinating. You thought I was someone else.”

“Who could I have thought you were that I’d throw a book at your head?”

“Throw it or throw it when you didn’t think I deserved it.”

“Frank…”

“Come now Claire, you know full well it wouldn’t be the first time you lobbed something at my head.”

Claire closed her eyes embarrassed. This made what Joe had said all the more troubling. “Did it wake Bre?”

“Yes, but I told her you were having a nightmare. It was then she mentioned you were warm when you cuddled with her and I realized it was more than just a dream. I sent her to get her things for the morning and to Mrs. Flannery for the rest of the night while I got you here.”

“She must have been terrified.”

“She’s handled things rather well, although she was afraid of losing you.”

“What did you tell her?” Claire asked in an accusing tone.

“The truth. That you were very ill and she couldn’t visit because of that. What else would I have told her? That you were out of your mind.”

“Oh, you would have loved it if I was, wouldn’t you?”

“Be careful Claire.”

“Of what?” she shot back. “I’ve already told many a secret from what Joe told me. You must have been furious that I was talking about that time and place.”

“You were sick, Claire. How could I be anything but supportive when you talked about that life?”

Claire made what she had always thought of as a Scottish sound in displeasure. “I suppose I should apologize for the things I said when I was out of my head.”

“There’s no need….”

“Really Frank? Forgot who you are talking to here, have you? You made me promise to never bring any of that up again. I broke that promise.”

“You were sick, Claire. I can give you a pass on things.”

“And for how long will that last?” she wondered as she glared at him. “You’ll throw it back in my face sooner or later.”

Frank tensed his jaw, wondering why she was spoiling for a fight. Frankly, he didn’t care to have one, but if it was going to get the answers he wanted from her, he might as well use the opening he now had. “Then how about you explain some things now and we get it out of the way.”

“I’m not discussing Jamie with you.”

“I’ve had enough talk of your precious Jamie over the last few days. No, I have some other questions for you.”

“All right.”

“Who did you think I was Claire?” he asked.

“What?”

“That night, in our bedroom you were terrified of me. Talked about the horrible things I did to you and people you knew. Somethings you had told me hadn’t happened.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want the answers.”

“Let it go Frank. I just thought you were someone else.”

“You told me things in your muddled state, Claire. Make it make sense for me now.”

“Why? You never believed me before.”

“I have no reason to doubt you now.”

Claire clenched her jaw: “Jack. I probably thought you were Jack.”

“Jack who?”

“Frank…”

“Who?”

“Black Jack Randall.”

Frank muttered a curse under his breathe: “You told me he hadn’t hurt you.”

“Define hurt,” she retorted curtly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You alluded to a few things he had done.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Frank.”

“You told me once you hadn’t been raped.”

“I wasn’t,” Claire sighed. “But it wasn’t for lack of trying on his part.  
Murtaugh saved me once. Dougal another time. Jamie married me to protect me.”

“I thought he loved you and you him,” Frank prodded confused.

“Jamie once told me he loved me from the moment I cried about you in his arms…” she answered then sighed. “Jamie saved me more than once in more ways than one.”

“So that’s where the door and bulls came in?”

Claire paled. “What did I say about them?”

“That he had almost been killed. It was something about Wentworth…”

“I told you about that?”

“The basic details.”

“No.” Claire protested. “I wouldn’t have told you about that. What he did to Jamie there…”

“Can you be so sure?”

“You’re fishing Frank.”

“You said he didn’t care if he hurt a man, woman, or child.”

“He didn’t.”

“Who did he rape if it wasn’t you?” Frank demanded.

“You want a list? I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t know all of his victims.” 

“But you were close to someone that he…” he stopped short. “that’s what you didn’t tell me, isn’t it? He raped your beloved Jamie, didn’t he?”

“Don’t you dare say it like that. Jamie traded himself for me. Promised to do whatever Black Jack wanted. And you know what he did? He made Jamie lay his hand on a table, picked up a long, rusted, nail and used a mallet to slam it through Jamie’s hand. Then he sent me away and made use of Jamie to the point that he almost killed him. It took me hours to repair the damage to his hand after we got him out, never mind everything else. It was months before he healed enough to go on with… with things.  
And no, he wasn’t the only one. Jamie’s sister, Jenny, got away from Jack because she started laughing. Apparently, he couldn’t perform under those conditions and knocked her unconscious.”

“That covers man and woman…”

“You want me to tell you how Jamie walked in on him raping the ten-year-old boy who we had taken into our care? How Jamie fought a duel with him because of it?”

“You mentioned a duel before but it was in reference to another name,” Frank mused. “Claire, who was Faith.”

“No. Absolutely not. Faith is mine. You don’t get to know about…”

“You made it fairly obvious that she was your daughter,” Frank conjectured.

Claire closed her eyes at his words, wincing slightly: “aren’t I allowed to keep some parts of what happened to myself?” she wondered.

“What happened to her, Claire?”

Claire opened her eyes and glared at him: “She died. Never drew a breath. Is that what you wanted to hear? Want to know all the sordid details? That Jamie broke a promise I made him make to not go after Black Jack for a year so that you would eventually be born? How I rushed to stop them but was too late? That before everything went black I heard him cry out to me, but the officers took him away? How I woke up alone days later to beg for my baby and be told she was gone? That the head of the hospital had broken rules and baptized her ‘Faith’ so she could have a proper burial? That I held her lifeless little body for hours to memorize every detail about her?  
Do you want to know how I was so eaten up by anger I never asked what happened to Jamie? That it took months for anyone to tell me he was being held in the Bastille? That I could barely look at him when he first came back. Had to tell him everything about her? Learn that he thought we were both dead? Even more, learn to forgive him and move on?   
See, Frank, she was mine.   
Mine to hold.  
To remember.  
To love.  
Faith belonged only to me, and now…” she exhaled harshly. “Are you happy now?” she wondered as she fought back tears.

“That was the reason you were so upset when Bre wasn’t in the room with you after she was born?” he asked as realization dawned on him.

“I thought it had happened again.  
And when you handed me Bre, my mind couldn’t… she looked so much like Faith had, only bigger and then she did what Faith never could and opened her eyes and looked at me…”

“Is all this why you can’t look at me?” Frank queried. 

“I look at you Frank.”

“Not when we…”

Claire swallowed and looked away then forced herself to look back at him: “the first time I saw Black Jack I thought he was you trying to play a trick on me, and then I realized he wasn’t,” she bit the inside of her lip as she tried to find the words. “Each time I saw him it took a little less to not think of you, but it never really stopped. It colored my reactions to him. Maybe if it hadn’t…”

“Christ Claire, for years I’ve wondered what I had done to make you hate me”, he said before he pushed to his feet, coat falling unheeded to the floor. “And it wasn’t even me you hated.”

“Right, Frank, because it’s always all about you and what you need.”

“I didn’t mean…”

Claire sighed as she slid down on the bed and turned her back to him: “I’m tired Frank. I think its pass time you left.   
Give Bre my love…”


	10. chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> confirmation

Getting over a debilitating illness didn’t go along a linear trajectory. It was filled with fits and starts; Claire mused as she stared out of her bedroom window. The last few weeks at home while studying for her boards was not what she had thought it would be. She spent a lot of time alone as Frank went to work in his office at the college daily and still took on the brunt of raising Bre. While her hours were usually spent at the hospital, they were now spent trying to regain her strength as well as tracking down information on the life she left behind.

She supposed she should feel guilty, but, somehow, she didn’t. 

If what she had dreamed was the truth, then Jamie was alive somewhere back in the 1700s and Frank had known for some time--- quite possibly the entire time she had been back. Now, she snuck looks in his office and the books that lined his shelves on Culloden. Claire couldn’t help but worry that she was chasing ghosts, as she often felt that she wasn’t alone in the house.

She hadn’t dreamt of Jamie or Jenny again, or had sightings of Dougal or Murtaugh but she noted that Bre still was entertaining Fay. 

Putting her notes aside, she stood and stretched. There had to be a way to be sure of what she was doing. She had promised them that she would return--- with Bre, but how was she to do that if she didn’t know that she would be returning to a family? Or that Bre could travel with her? Was she really going to wait till Bre was of age if she couldn’t? 

Or was there some other way.

Sighing she headed to the kitchen as she went over a mental list of things that needed to be done. Of course, she first had to find confirmation. Next, she needed some sort of an idea on how the stones had worked. To do that she had reached out to Mrs. Graham and was awaiting a response from her injuries into what happened. She hoped that she wouldn’t just brush her off as chasing ghosts better left buried… as she walked down the hall, she changed direction at the sound of the mail dropping from the chute and allowed her thoughts to drift to Bre.  
She had broken down and asked Bre about Fay and clung to the information she had gotten. A little older than Bre with red hair but darker than Bre’s and eyes shaped like hers but brown in color. It all made her cling to the hope that somehow Faith was near…

Quickly picking up the mail, she started to sort through it stopping at the letter to her postmarked Scotland.   
Allowing the other mail to fall back to the floor, she ripped open the envelop and started to read it, stopping short at the words: “One man, a Fraser of Lovat’s regiment escaped…”

* * *

“One man, a Fraser of Lovat’s regiment escaped…” Frank read with dread Reverend Wakefield’s conclusions as dropped into his chair…

“Daddy, is everything OK?” Bre wondered from where she was drawing on the floor.

“Yes, of course. Just some research,” he answered distractedly as he continued to read on: “One Jamie Fraser, said to be the son of Simon of Lovat’s illegitimate son, Brian, survived though he meant to die on the field. There is disagreement as to how he survived, but he apparently hid on his lands till he was turned over to the English and then sent to Ardsmuir…  
It is there where he seems to have disappeared, as he was not among the men sent to the colonies. It is believed that he was known as Red Jamie and was married to the woman known as the Stewart Witch and both were confidents of Prince Charles Stewart. He made have been sent somewhere in England to finish out his sentence as an example. There is no mention of his wife’s fate at Culloden or afterwards…” Frank tried to make sense of the words he was seeing in front of him. If the reverend had truly found Claire’s Jamie then he was alive in some hiccup of time.   
If he told Claire she would undoubtedly go back to him.   
But where would that leave him--- and more importantly Bre.  
Would Claire put the man she had made another life with a head of him? he wondered. But he knew that answer: of course, she would. The only real question was would she leave Bre behind…

“Daddy, look, I made you a picture,” Bre said as she jumped to her feet and ran over to him.

Almost on automatic power he brought her to him: “let’s see. What have you done?” he said as he pulled her into his side. “A pond and mill? Where did you come up with this?”

Bre pushed her hair back from her face: “Fay told me about it and then I draw it.”

“You drew it.”

“That’s what I said.”

Frank kissed her head as he smiled: “how about we head home and check on Momma?”

“OK,” she replied as she skipped over to pick up her things. 

“You did finish your homework, didn’t you?” Frank wondered as he went about packing up his own things once he had made sure to lock the letter from Wakefield in his desk. 

“Ah huh,” Bre answered as she picked up her backpack and swung it over her shoulder. “Can I help you make dinner?”

“How about I make dinner and you tell your mother about what you did in school and have her go over your homework with you?”

“OK.”

“Ready?” Frank asked as he grabbed his briefcase and moved towards her, hand outstretched for hers. 

“Yep,” Bre said popping the p as she hopped along next to Frank. “Can we have ice cream for dessert.”

“We’ll see,” Frank responded automatically as he locked up his office and they headed down the hall. “Which would you prefer to practice: Latin or French?” he directed to her.

“French.”

“OK, then…” he started switching over to conversational French, happy to lose himself in her reply.


	11. chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. This chapter just wouldn't let me write it.

Claire sat in the darken living room, across from the fire, a scotch in her hand as she looked into the flames. If she closed her eyes and focused on the warmth of the flames and the crackling of the fire she could almost convince herself that she was in Lallybroch’s parlor. As footsteps approached, she was pulled out of her musings and watched as Frank came tiredly into the room. 

“How are you feeling today?” he wondered as he crossed to pour himself a drink.

As the ice clinked into the glass, Claire looked at him, rim of her glass at her lips. “Do you really care?” she asked peevishly. 

“What have I done now?” Frank wondered as he turned to her.

Claire laughed slightly at that: “I honestly think you don’t want to know, Frank.”

He laughed at that: “are we going back to that, then? I thought we were passed it.”

“Pass what?” she wondered as she lowered her glass, wondering if she wanted to persue things now. She had read over the grimoire that Mrs. Graham had included with her letter and knew she had to either work fast and get to Scotland in the next week or so or wait till the fall. Of course, that was dependent on whether or not she could believe the writings of St. Germain…

“Pass your distaste of me.”

“And why would we be pass that?” 

“Claire…”

“You know I thought we were pass some things myself.”

“Oh?” Frank asked as he took a sip of his drink. “What is that?”

“You trying to control every aspect of our lives,” she started. “The lies.”  
Frank rolled his eyes at her: “and what am I supposed to be lying about this time?”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?” he wondered as he approached her.

“I know, Frank. All right. I know.”

He tilted his head as he stared at her. He saw something in her eyes he wasn’t thrilled about and a chill ran up his spine. “What am I supposed to know?” he asked resigned.

Claire laughed hollowly at that: “you bastard! You really thought I would never find out? That it would all be research for you? A file hidden somewhere in the recesses of your office where you wouldn’t have to admit that you believed the story I told you!”

“So, you’re mad because I believed you about… what?”

“You’re rich,” she muttered as she put her glass down on the end table. “Just keep pretending. Pretend that we’re happy. Pretend that we love each other. Pretend that we’re a family. Pretend that you’re Bree’s father…” she listed off, cutting herself off at a gasp and shattering of a glass.

“Daddy’s not my daddy?” Bree asked with big eyes filling with tears.

“Damnit Claire!” Frank exclaimed as he put his glass down and went towards the doorway where Brianna stood.

“Frank,” Claire cut him off with a look as she moved towards her daughter. “Bree, honey, what do you know about where babies come from?”

Bree bit her lip as Frank cursed under his breathe, a muttered “now’s not the time for the talk.” As Bree looked at her mother and whispered. “When mommy and daddies love each other a daddy puts the baby in the mommy’s tummy.”

“That’s right, lovey,” she said as she took Bree’s hand and started to take her back towards the bedrooms, careful of the shattered remnants on the floor.

“So, daddy didn’t make me with you because you two don’t love each other?” the girl asked too knowingly.

Claire inhaled on that as Frank turned angrily away from them muttering about cleaning up after another of Claire’s messes and she answered Bree as truthfully as she could: “Momma and Daddy love each other, just not in that way,” she said softly as they got to Bree’s bedroom. “You have another Daddy, a ‘Da’ actually, who made you with me. He loved you very much but he had to send you and me away so we could be safe.”

“From what?” climbing into bed, Bree wondered cocking her head to the side in a move that brought Jamie to mind.

Claire sighed: “a lot of things. See he isn’t from here.”

“Where is he from?”

Claire took Bree’s hands in hers: “Did Faye’s uncles ever tell you about the woman of Balnain?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, once there was a woman who went to a special set of stones in Scotland. The place was called Craig Na Dun. The winds near her picked up though there was no storm and made her touch them. From there she was transported to another time. One where she met many different people, some she learned to be friends with. Another to love. Some she would fear, but they would all take her on adventure she’d never forget. But then one day, the winds changed again and she had to go back to her own time, leaving them all behind,” Claire told her as she climbed onto the bed with her.

“Did she want to?”

“I don’t know, but I know I didn’t. I was like her, Bree. I went to the standing stones at Craig Nu Dunn one day and touched them and fell through time.  
I was saved by a man named Murtaugh. He brought me to the men he was traveling with. It was there, among them, that I met your Da. He had fallen off a horse and dislocated his shoulder,” she continued. “The other men, were going to put it back the wrong way, so I stopped them and did it myself. Because of that I was taken with them back to Leoch to be their healer.”

Bree looked over Claire’s shoulder and smiled slightly: “That’s where Faye’s uncle Ougal was from.”

“I know. And I think I once knew him. That he and some of the others are watching over us, to protect us.”

“Like angels?” 

“Yes.”

Bree focused on Claire at that: “did you know Faye too?”

Claire shook her head: “I don’t think so. Not how you mean. I do think that she was sent to me and your Da to one day look over you,” she replied as she bopped Bree on the nose.

Bree looked back at the door than at Claire, raising an eyebrow she posed a question that surprised Claire: “is she my sister?”

Claire bit her lip and nodded slightly as she wondered: “why did you ask that?”

Bree just shrugged: “She looks a like me. At least I think she does.”

“What does she look like?”

“Me… She’s taller. Her eyes aren’t blue like mine. They’re brown, but they look like mine. She’s the only other person I know with red hair and it’s even curlier than mine--- more like yours,” she said, then paused and smiled: “she saids she has Da’s tem-per-mant.” 

“So, do you,” Claire teased slightly. “Is she here? Now?”

“Yeah. She’s by the door.”

Claire nodded at that as she looked towards the door and blew it a kiss before turning her attention back to Bree. “Bree, I made a promise to your Da while I was sick that I would try to return to him and our family there--- with you--- once I was better.”

“Family? There’s more than him?”

“Yes. You have an aunt Jenny and uncle Ian and cousins.”

“Cousins?” Bree squealed as she bounced on the bed. “How many? Are they my age? Will they like me?”

“You have at least four. Wee Jamie must be around 15 now, which means Maggie is 12 and Kitty 10, and I’m sure they’ll love you.”

Bree smiled at that but that turned to a frown: “will my…. Da…. will he like me?”

“Oh honey, he’ll love you. He sent me back so that you could be safe.”

“Why wasn’t it safe?”

“Well,” Claire started, “you remember how Daddy and I told you about us   
being in the War?”

“Yeah?” Bree said uncertainly as she moved over slightly on the bed.

“Well, after… our war… Daddy and I went on a special vacation. That’s why we were at the stones. To tell you the truth, I tried to run away from Leoch at first.”

“To get back to Daddy?”

“Yes, only I fell in love with your Da and decided to stay with him…” Claire inhaled. “I knew things because of listening to Daddy talk about Scotland and things that happened there, only they were now happening while I was actually there. Do you understand what I mean?”

Bree shook her head, but then said: “Faye saids that means you lived in the time Daddy studies about. Is that where my Da is?”

“Sort of.   
I don’t know how it works, but we’re somehow in a parallel times.   
Like how 10 years have passed here since we’ve been back, it’s passed there.”

“And my Da?”

“He lives there. In that time.   
But I’m not sure where he is. He isn’t at the family’s home--- Lallybroch….”

“That’s where the tower I drew you is!”

“Yes, that’s where it is.”

“Why wouldn’t he be there?”

“Because we--- your Da and I--- fought in a war then too.  
Only, unlike Daddy’s and my war, there wasn’t really a good side versus a bad side. Your Da and I fought on the side that lost. That’s why he sent us back. He new he was going to fight in a battle that was very bad and where many of our friends would die. He sent as many of the men back to Lallybroch as he could.”

“If he knew they were going to lose why did he fight? Why didn’t you do something to change it?”

“We tried to, but we learnt that you couldn’t change history. At least not something as big as a war,” Claire told her as she took her small hand in hers. “He fought because he promised that he would and he didn’t break his promises.”

“Why didn’t he come with us if he loved us so much?” Bree demanded

“He couldn’t hear the stones to try to,” Claire said. “He thought he would die in battle. If not, he would be killed after it because he was a high-ranking officer and friends with Prince Charles. But, somehow, he survived and hid long enough that instead of being kilt he was sent to prison.”

“He’s a bad man?”

“No. Back then people didn’t treat the side that didn’t win the way we do today.  
Our side lost.  
The… the British weren’t happy about it and took it out on the Highlanders--- the Scotts. Many were killed because they fought. Your Da should’ve been. I don’t know how he managed to stay alive.”

Bree frowned: “Momma if you knew they were going to lose why did you fight on that side?”

“Sometimes I wonder why we did myself.  
But, your Da was a man of his word. Everyone knew that. He was a good laird. We were going to stay out of the fighting. Prepare Lallybroch for what would happen once the uprising ended. But we were important people to Bonnie Prince Charles while we lived in France. Because of that when he sent out a missive--- a letter--- stating who supported him, he listed your Da on it.   
He actually forged his signature.  
Because of that we didn’t have a choice any more.   
Your Da was branded a traitor to the crown with that letter; so, we fought.”

“Oh,” Bree sighed as she pulled her legs up to her chest. “Will I ever get to meet my Da?” she asked.

Claire sighed: “I don’t know if you can travel through the stones like I can. If you can we can try to go back to him and the rest of the family,” Claire explained.

“What about Daddy?”

“He would stay here,” she said honestly.

“Why?”

“Because Daddy doesn’t belong back then the way you and I do.  
Because I can’t be married to both Daddy and Da at the same time.”

“But aren’t you now?” 

“I suppose, in a way. But we can’t live with both Daddy and Da, I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.” 

“So, to know Da I’d have to say goodbye to Daddy?” Bree asked as her eyes flooded with tears. “I don’t want to say goodbye to Daddy. I love him!”

“And I love you, too,” Frank said from the doorway. “You’re not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

“Actually, we are,” Claire said, glaring at him. “We’re going to go to the stones to see if Bree can travel. If she can we’re going back.”

“Claire…” Frank started.

“No. You don’t have a say.  
I promised Jamie I’d go back.”

“You made promises to me too, Claire.”

“Well, what’s one more broken one between us?” she asked as she turned to Bree. “Daddy and Da will both always love you. Same as me. Unfortunately, they can’t be in the same time. We’re going to go back to Da’s time.”

Bree swiped at her tears: “Could we come back here?”

“Yes,” Frank said tensely.

Claire inhaled and bit her cheek at that. “Daddy will always be here for you to come back to,” she conceded. “But you won’t be able to come back till you’re older.”

“She can come back any damned time she wants to.”

Claire ignored him as she brushed back one of Bree’s curls. “Daddy will always be here for you, but its time we went back to Da.”

Bree looked down then sighed: “Faye saids I’ll be happy there.”

“Faye isn’t real!” Frank said frustratedly as he started to come into the room only to be tripped by Dougal.  
As Frank righted himself, Bree glared: “Ougal be nice!”

“For Dougal that is nice,” Claire muttered as Frank crossed the room.

Stopping at the bed, Frank shook his head: “None of this is real,” he told Bree. “Not Faye and her uncles, or your mother’s stories of another time!” he insisted as he turned his attention to Claire: “I won’t let you take her away from me.”

“You have no choice.  
You’re not her father.”

“YES I AM,” he replied. “In every way that counts, and every way that your precious Jamie, where ever he might really be is.   
Keep it up, Claire and I’ll bury you.”

Claire stood at that: “I faced down the Chieftain of the MacKenzies.  
I stood before the King of France.  
I stood on battlefields in our time and his.  
You don’t scare me any more Frank. I’m taking my daughter and we’re going to have the life you tried to deny us.”

Before he could respond, Bree asked: “what does deny mean?”

Claire turned to her: “it means Daddy knew Da was a live and didn’t tell me so we’d stay with him.”

“That’s mean,” Bree said. “Da wouldn’t keep me away from Daddy, would he?”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“But your mother would,” Frank countered. “That’s what she wants to do.   
Take you away from me.”

“What I want to do is see if Bree can travel. Once I--- we --- know that plans can be made.”

“I won’t let you…”

“You lost the right to demand anything from me the moment you knew Jamie was alive and didn’t tell me.”

“For Christ sake I only found out for sure today!”

“But you suspected for longer,” Claire said. “In all that time you were lying to me--- to us.   
You took time away from us.”

“I tried to keep my family.”

“We aren’t to be kept, Frank.   
We’re not possessions.” Claire insisted as she turned to Bree. “Go to sleep, lovey. We’ll make plans tomorrow.”


	12. chapter 12

Chapter 12

Claire walked out of the room with her head held high. She wasn’t going to cower or beg. She was going to do what she bloody wanted for the first time in years. Full of righteous indignation she tore her blouse off and moved to her dresser to pull out a nightgown. As she fought her way into it, Frank stormed into the room.

“You are NOT taking my daughter with you on some fictional odyssey,” he said as he moved towards her, anger radiating off of him. 

Rolling her eyes, Claire glared back at him: “she is not your daughter. Her father is James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser and we’re going back to him.”

“You stupid woman,” Frank started as he stomped to her, grabbing her harshly. “I won’t…” he started as she tried to pry her arm out of his hold. She watched in disbelief as his hand was pried off her arm and he went flying into the wall behind them.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she muttered as she backed into her bed.

Shaking his head, Frank rose from the floor and started to her again, only to be stopped by what felt like arms restraining him on both sides. “Bloody Hell,” he muttered as he looked at her. Swallowing he got out: “tell them to let me go.”

“I don’t know who…” she shook her head. “As long as they think you’re a danger to me or Bree they aren’t going to let you near either of us.”

“Christ, Claire who do you think I am? What I am?”

“You’re a Randall. They don’t trust Randalls,” she said tensely as she stood. “Why did you have to… you’ve known for…”

“I only got a letter from Reg today. It said that a James Fraser, possibly a grandson to Simon Lovat, had somehow survived Culloden. The stories of how contradicted each other, whatever they may have been, and he stayed hidden on unnamed family lands. He was arrested and sent to the prison Ardsmuir. There the information stopped. While other prisoners were sent to the colonies he seems to have disappeared--- along with his wife,” he finished with a take that flourish.

“His wife?” Claire asked with a touch of incredulity.

“She was called the Stewart Witch and…” Frank started only for Claire to start laughing.   
“You’re a fool, Frank. I was the Stewart Witch.”

“Wha… what?”

“So, you didn’t believe me after all?” she asked, a bit disappointed. “I traveled with the army and continued my work as a healer. Because of the things I could do and the stories of La Dame Blanche that Jamie made up to protect me they called me witch. Should we guess why there was no information on her to be found?”

Frank’s shoulders hunched and he seemed to fall into himself before he was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. “Who the hell are you?”

Claire laughed slightly at that: “the same woman I’ve always been,” she said as she pushed to her feet. “Bree and I will be leaving tomorrow. I won’t stop you from coming with us so you can spend time with her before we leave.”

“Even you said you didn’t know if she could travel. What will you do then?”

“Come back. Get a divorce, it’s the only fair thing for both of us. I’ll allow you to continue to see Bree and even to take her from time to time, because it’s what’s best for her.”

“Claire we could…”

“No. We can’t,” Claire said cutting him off. “I’m done pretending. If I have to live in this time I’m going to do it on my terms,” she told him. “I’ll spend the night with Bree.”

“But…”

“It’s really for the best, Frank. Don’t fight it.”

“I could,” he shot back bitterly.

“With what? The fact that I disappeared for almost three years? What story will you give them for that? Mine? I doubt it. And I have plenty to say about you and your affairs.”

“Damnit, Claire, I never cheated on you!”

She tilted her head and looked at him: “maybe, but plenty of girls came to me claiming that you had with little notes and letters. Even one with pictures.”

“How…”

“Apparently I’m not the only one you’re angered over the years,” she informed him as she walked by.

Frank stared at her retreating form before shaking his head and moving to his own bed. For some reason, the book on Claire’s end table caught his attention. St. Germain, he whispered as he took in the name of the author and paled. Perhaps… but why?


	13. chapter 13

Chapter 13

Bree bounced up on the bed as soon as her parents had left the room. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she squealed at Faye.  
Slowly walking towards her, Faye looked down, and shrugged: “I wasn’t supposed to,” she admitted. “I didn’t even think you sus-peck-ted we were sisters.”

Bree nodded as she continued to bounce, to keyed up to go to bed with all the information she had been given running circles round her head. “Do you get to come with us when we go to see Da?” Faye slid onto the bed and shook her head. “Why not?” Bree demanded as she sat on her legs and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Because I’m sup-posed to look after ye. I can’t do that and stay with you,” Faye said. “Besides Grandda said I’m going to have to help Caitlyn look after Ian cause he’s always into mischief!”

“Who are Caitlyn and Ian?”

“Caitlyn was like me.”

“Another sister?”

“No,” Faye corrected. “She was Aunt Jenny’s bairn and our cousin. Ian--- wee Ian--- is our cousin too. “

“So how is she like you?”

“Because we didn’t get to stay and grow up like you.”

Bree nodded and then let her arms fall: “and why didn’t you?”

“Don’t ken,” Faye admitted. “Maybe our jobs were always to just keep watch.”

“Oh,” Bree considered her words for a moment. “But Ougal and the quiet man?”

“The quiet… Oh! Murtaugh,” Faye laughed bringing her hands to her mouth to muffle the giggles. “No. They lived their lives. Murtaugh is Da’s goistidh.”

“His whattish?”

“Goistidh,” Faye answered. “Godfather. He promised Gran that he’d always watch over Da, and now he watches you too.”

“Hmmm…. What about Ougal.”

“Dougal,” Faye corrected. “He’s Gran’s older brother--- our uncle. He watches after you and Mom because he… well, he wasn’t always that nice when he was alive, so he has to watch over the family till his misdeeds are outweighed with the good.”

“How’s he gonna do that if he’s mean to people like he was to Daddy?”

Faye shrugged: “but he was mean because he was trying to protect you.”

“Daddy wouldn’t hurt me!” Bree bristled.

“I don’t know. They all say to ‘never trust a Randall…’”

“But I’m a Randall.”

“No- ye are a Fraser!” Faith told her with a stomp of her foot. “You’re no a Randall in anything but name. Ye need to remember that.”

“Why?”

Faith huffed: “your Daddy is good to you, but he makes Momma cry…. And the other Randall--- the one from Da’s time is very very very mean. He’s so mean and nasty that they won’t tell me what he did to hurt Da except that he caused his scars.”

“Da has scars?”

“On his back and hand, but they’re no scary.”

“What if I mess up and say I’m a Randall? Will they not trust me too?” Bree cried as she pulled her pillow close to her chest as Claire walked into the room. 

“Lovey, what’s the matter?” she asked as she quickly went to pull Bree to her.

“Faye saids that Randalls are mean and you can’t trust them,” Bree cried into her mother’s shoulder.

Faith stomped her foot and brought her hands to her hips: “that’s no what I said. You tell the truth!”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean you,” Claire sighed as she pulled Bree’s head up so she could look at her, “but there was a Randall in your Da’s and my time who was mean and untrustworthy.”

“Is Daddy?” 

“Is Daddy what?”

“Those things?”

Claire sighed: “Daddy tries very hard to not be mean and to be an upstanding and trustworthy man. If he didn’t and hadn’t your Da would’ve never sent us back to him. He wouldn’t have thought he could keep us safe.”

“And he thought he could? How if they can’t be in the same time? I mean how’d he know he’d keep us safe?”  
“Because I told your Da about Daddy. I told him what a kind heart he had,” she started as she pushed back some of Bree’s curls. “And that he loved me. That he was good to me.”

“Faye saids he isn’t. That he makes you cry.”

“Faith is partially right. I cry sometimes after Daddy and I have words or disagree. But I cry mainly because I miss your Da and wish he was here with us.”

Bree nodded slightly at that: “and he can’t come because he isn’t an angel and he can’t hear the stones--- Momma, what if I can’t hear the stones? Will you leave me? Will he be mad?”

“No. No,” Claire sighed as she pulled Bree back to her. “If you can’t hear the stones then we’ll come back to Boston, I suppose. Although things will be different. We won’t live with daddy any longer, but you’ll still get to see him and spend time with him.  
And I’ll be with you. Your Da and I… well, we decided that I would stay with you till you’re all grown up and then I’d go back,” she told her. “But that doesn’t matter now. Now it’s time for all good girls--- human and angel--- to go to sleep. We have a big adventure to go on in the morrow.”

“The morrow?” Bree giggled as she started to lie back down.

“Tomorrow,” Claire said as she bent down and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to stay here with you tonight alright?”

Bree nodded: “can you tell me more about Da?”

“You need to sleep. We both do.” Claire said as she went about turning off the light and closing the door

“But I’m too ‘cited to!”

“OK, one story,” she gave in as she shrugged out of her robe and crawled into the bed next to her daughter. “Is there something you’d like to know?”

“You pick. But can you tell me about Ougal and the quiet man—Faye said he was named… Mer--- Mer---”  
“Murtaugh?”

“Yeah, Mer-tah.”

“Well, I don’t know if I know that many about both that I could tell you. Se Dougal and Murtaugh didn’t always get along…”

“Because Dougal could be bad?”

Claire stifled a laugh at that: “Dougal could be a lot of things… You know there was one day that I know they had to work together…”

“What?”

“The day I married your Da.”

“They did? Why?”

“Well, your Da and I were starting to fall in love with each other, but hadn’t told each other yet. People like Murtaugh and Dougal saw it though and it was Dougal’s idea to get me out of trouble with…” she bit her tongue and then went on at Bree’s who? “Black Jack Randall.”

“The really bad Randall?”

“Yes. The really bad one.   
To keep me safe I had to become a Scott, and to do that I needed to marry one. See back then a woman was seen more as property to the man she was wed to than a person of her own.”

“Property? Like my bike is my property?”

“Yes.”

“And did Da think you were his?”

“No. He saw me as a person--- my own person. Anyway, your Da decided that if we were to wed--- get married--- we needed three things.”

“What?”

“The Fraser tartan, a church, and a dress….”


End file.
